


Coatsex (5 Times That Condoms Are A Should Be, Have To, Want To, Really Need To, But Maybe Item)

by cruentum



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: writerinadrawer, WriterInADrawer 4.99
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-22
Updated: 2010-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cruentum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is part of a short-duration writing contest.  Please do not comment on this story, positively or negatively, until this notice is removed.  If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Coatsex (5 Times That Condoms Are A Should Be, Have To, Want To, Really Need To, But Maybe Item)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a short-duration writing contest. Please do not comment on this story, positively or negatively, until this notice is removed. If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.

The sweaty duvet dangled off the side of the bed, and Thomas had dragged one edge halfway across the wooden floor when he'd walked into the kitchen. It was a wedding dress's white train in the middle of the damp Cardiff flat. Jack stepped around the cups and plates on the floor framing the somewhat artistic arrangement and slipped off his coat before he sat on the bed.

"Only have tea," Thomas called from the kitchen, then coughed. The water boiled.

"Fine." Jack leaned back on his elbows and watched Thomas as he padded back into the room, naked, balls low in his sack, dick swinging back and forth.

Thomas coughed again, the tea swapped over the rim of the cup, and splashed hot over Jack's thighs.

"You're getting worse," Jack said and took the cup, smiled when Thomas straddled his thighs and kissed him, lips, tongue, fingers finding Jack's buttons and zipper and dick.

"You've been worse and got better," Thomas replied between nips and licks to Jack's lips. He rubbed his ass over Jack's dick. "All better now," he laughed.

Jack pulled the rubber from his pocket, but Thomas was already sinking down on his dick, and Jack was too into it to protest much.

***

Being a licensed health professional should make anyone smart about anonymous sex hook-ups, but Owen Harper's license was in a drawer somewhere that he hadn't opened in months. The clubs were too tempting and his jeans too tight when he spent hours rubbing along bodies of sweaty, sexy women and pulled them into corners for spit swap and squeezing tight arse cheeks. He stumbled with them into the restrooms that stank a little too much of piss to want to spend any amount of time in there.

He got his dick out of his trousers, the bird pushed her skirt up and her panties down, and he slid into tight, wet heat. It was heaven because for that one moment, nothing else existed.

When he woke up scratching at his junk until it was inflamed red, it should have sent up all the warning flags, but it wasn't until a bird kicked him in the nuts and stormed off that something began to click. He stood with his jeans down and his pus-y dick hanging outside and flipped off a bird, but he didn't shag anyone that night. A new beginning.

***

"In Cosmopolitan they said you'd woo me with a strawberry dipped in chocolate and cream," Gwen said. Not that she read that rag, but she'd thumbed through it waiting in the queue at Tesco's.

The telly was playing Wife Swap and Rhys had just shoved a forkful of spagbol into his mouth.

"Am," Rhys said. "Wooed 'yng Cymraeg."

"What?" Gwen laughed through her own mouthful of food, holding a hand to her mouth to keep the pasta inside.

"Wooing you," Rhys replied after he'd swallowed. He set the plate aside, knife and fork clattering, as he caught it with his foot. "Come here, you."

Rhys took her plate and set it on the coffee table then pushed her back and slid his hand under her shirt and up her side, until his thumb found her breast, found her nipple. She couldn't help but arch into it, tried not to choke on the last pasta as she swallowed, then had to laugh. He pushed her t-shirt up and took her nipple into his mouth, slid his hand down her body and into her trousers and slip, then into her. She squeezed around his fingers and made both of them chuckle.

"Already wooed," she said when he slid a third finger into her.

"Let me fetch-" he said against her lips, all damp breath and hot and hers and hers now.

She looked from him to the bedroom to him, and turned over to present him with her arse.

***

"Everyone will be looking at us," Tommy whispered into her ear.

She took his hand and pulled him into Boots.

"I'm sure she's looking at us, the girl at the-" And then he stopped, eyes wide, in the middle of the aisle taking it all in, mind already blown.

Tosh went with regular, regular in regular and paid up, never letting go of Tommy's hand. They had this one day and she wasn't letting it pass by when Tommy made her want to kiss the world.

***

The Hub was dark when Ianto came in that morning, but that wasn't unusual and only meant that Jack had spent the night on a rooftop -- yes there was a diary, and yes he was keeping track -- and not in his bunk, or in fact with Ianto. Ianto had wanked to internet porn and fallen asleep with his hand wet with semen, thinking Jack might drop by, but he never had. He was fine with that arrangement of occasional blowjobs between filing or a mission as long as it made him not look at Torchwood and think of death.

He'd bought a blowup doll and named her Lisa, so maybe it wasn't altogether bad Jack didn't believe in more than an office affair.

He turned on the lights and they flared up. The desks were as tidy as he'd left them, the kitchen was tidy as he'd left it, but the water basin around the base of the water tower wasn't so much. Coloured squares of plastic floated on the surface.

"I think I like ribbed," Jack said, sitting in Ianto's deskchair, turned idly and stopped as he faced Ianto. "Liquorice, ribbed."

"That's-"

"Try it?" Jack held up an unrolled condom. "Or maybe without taste? I think my butt doesn't care about taste." Jack rummaged through the heap of more plastic squares on Ianto's desk.

"We're-"

"No barebacking."

Ianto was stuck on _no anal_, to be quite honest, but he let Jack undo his trousers and push the condom over his hardening cock.

"Looks good," Jack said, and, "Fuck?"

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a short-duration writing contest. Please do not comment on this story, positively or negatively, until this notice is removed. If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.


End file.
